


Red Lips to Match the Shoes

by EJWalters



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluffy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 21:07:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20589125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EJWalters/pseuds/EJWalters
Summary: Crowley goes to a party to tempt a politician, but finds a certain curly haired blond instead.





	Red Lips to Match the Shoes

Crowley stood in front of the mirror, curling her hair into loose, fiery curls. She was getting rather impatient, if she was honest. Sure, she could just snap her fingers and have it be done in a second, but for whatever reason, it never looked quite the same as it did when she did it by hand. So here she was, hot curling iron in hand, as she wrapped bits of hair around it to get it into the shape she wanted. It took her about an hour to get it all done. Time for makeup. She painted her face with practiced, precise movements, careful not to let one speck of dust land where it wasn’t supposed to. She was even more careful about applying her bright red lipstick.

With those tasks complete, it was time to slip into something a bit less comfortable, but a lot more stylish for where she was going. Crowley went into her bedroom and surveyed the little floor length, slit to the mid-thigh, black dress hanging on the door before her for a few moments before untying her dressing gown and letting the sleek black fabric pool at her feet. She stepped out of it and into the dress. It was a tight fit, but in the best way, accentuating all the right curves in all the right places. The dress was backless save a few straps that crossed to form an x across her shoulder blades and the neckline dipped a little lower than she usually wore, but when she checked the mirror after putting on a silver necklace with a snake pendant, she decided it was exactly the dress she needed tonight. Crowley then sat down on the edge of her bed and slipped her stiletto louboutins with silver snakes wrapped around the heel onto her feet, trying to remind herself why she invented high heels if they were so damn uncomfortable.

With one last check in the mirror to make sure everything was just as it was supposed to be, she dropped her lipstick into her black clutch and carefully put on her round black sunglasses on before heading outside and slipping into the driver’s seat of the bentley. She checked her mirrors like a responsible driver would and then went roaring into the streets of London.

What is usually a thirty minute drive for normal people, took Crowley roughly nine. She pulled into the area designated for valet to take your vehicles and dropped her keys into the boy’s waiting hand, a few folded up tenners landing in his hand with the keys.

Crowley looked at him very seriously, “Not a scratch on it, do you understand?”

The boy nodded, tucking away the tip, “Yes, ma’am.”

She pat him on the shoulder, “Good boy,” and walked inside, clutch in hand.

She went to the bar first to get an appletini before turning around to survey the room. The party was in full swing, politicians with their trophy wives or husbands on their arms milling about with the occasional reporter or oddball like her sprinkled in for taste. But Crowley was only interested in one politician. She was supposed to do some sort of temptation to make him cause a ruccus or something stupid like that. She gave a slight scoff when she found him, finding her work done for her already, just by him being himself.  _ Humans _ , she thought to herself. You can always count on them to do your dirty work for you. Ah well, saved her the trouble of actually doing the temptation herself and gave her more time to enjoy the party. She walked around the room, eyes scanning it for something entertaining as she sipped at her drink that never seemed to run out, ignoring the stares of all the men who varied on the scale of subtlety, before finding a nice quiet corner to enjoy her drink in. 

She nearly choked on her drink when she spotted some familiar blond curls standing a few paces from her. What was he doing here?

“Angel? What are you doing here?” she asked.

The man the curls belonged to turned around and smiled broadly when he spotted her, “Crowley!”

She got to her feet and started to make her way towards him, immediately tripping over herself and falling straight into him.

He caught her, “Are you alright, dear girl?”

She prayed to whoever cared that her blush was covered by her foundation, “Quite. Thank you,” and righted herself, “What are you doing here?”

“Influencing these politicians towards more moral decisions. What are you doing here?”

She shrugged, “Just nipped in for a quick temptation and stuck around for a drink,” she subtly gave him a lingering once over as he looked around the room. He looked good in that white suit, if she did say so herself.

“So we’re canceling eachother out? Again?” Aziraphale asked.

She sighed, “I suppose so. Although, I didn’t really have to do anything. The politician I was after is already enough of a knob as it is. Didn’t need my help to make bad decisions.”

“I see. Have you eaten?”

“Are you asking me to dinner, angel?” she looked at him with some amusement.

He spluttered for a moment before giving a little nod, “I suppose I am. The Ritz?”

“I think a table just opened up for us at our usual spot,” she smiled at him.

He smiled, “I presume you’ll be driving?”

“Of course I will be,” she chuckled.

He offered her his arm, “Shall we?”

She placed her pale, delicate hand in the crook of his arm and smiled, “Let’s.”

Aziraphale escorted her out of the room, becoming the envious center of attention for all the men who had been trying to figure out how to get the knock-out redhead’s attention since she stepped into the room, only to be thrown out of the running by a chubby blonde man she was clearly in love with.

The pair stood patiently as the valet boy retrieved the Bentley.

Crowley smiled at him, “No scratches?” she asked as he gave her the keys.

“Not a one,” he reported.

“Good boy,” she dropped another wad of folded up tenners in his hand, “Thank you! Get in, angel.”

They got in and roared through London on their way to the Ritz.

“You look wonderful, by the way,” Aziraphale complimented.

“Thank you. You don’t look half bad yourself,” Crowley looked at him from the corner of her eye, “What do you say we just go back to my place. I’ll make you some crepes or something.”

“Wanting to get into something more comfortable?” Aziraphale asked.

She smirked, “You know me well.”

“Of course we can go back to your flat. Perhaps we could cook something together?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley’s smirk turned softer, “Sounds nice.”

When they got back to Crowley’s flat, she took off her heels and carried them to the lift until Aziraphale took her shoes to carry them for her. She nodded to him in thanks as she took off her sunglasses. When they got to her flat’s door, she snapped and the door swung open before them.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back.”

Crowley went to her room and put on a comfy pair of black leggings and a black Queen shirt she had cut into a crop top ages ago before taking off all of her makeup. She threw her hair into a ponytail and padded barefoot out to the kitchen where Aziraphale had changed into some more comfortable clothes of his own.

“So, angel, what would you like tonight? We could make anything, what do you fancy?” she asked, getting out the basic utensils needed for any recipe.

Aziraphale pondered the question for a moment, “We could make pancakes. They’re so light and fluffy.”

“Pancakes it is.”

They made the pancakes, moving around eachother perfectly as if it were a dance they had practiced a thousand times. With a snap of her fingers, music started playing softly in the background. Somehow, they ended up with Crowley’s head resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder, their hands clasped together and arms around eachother as they swayed to the gentle beat playing in the background while they waited for the pancakes to cook on the griddle.

“I’ve been thinking,” Aziraphale started nervously.

“Yes?”

“What if we got a cottage together? There’s one in South Downs that’s available. It looks rather, well, rather comfy. And I know the city is making you more anxious than you’d like to admit, but I think it would do the both of us some good to get out of town.”

Crowley thought about it for a moment, imagining a quaint little cottage with a garden where they could do whatever they like. They could live quietly for once. It was definitely appealing, “How big is it?” she asked.

She didn’t need to look to be able to tell he was smiling brightly, “Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and I think it was somewhere around fifteen hundred square feet, perfect for a comfy cottage.”

“Room for the kids, then. If they wanted to stay over.” By “kids” she meant the Them or Warlock, and he knew this.

“Yes, my thoughts exactly. And we could share a room if you wanted or we could have seperate ones if you like. Whichever you prefer,” Aziraphale looked down at her with a soft smile.

Crowley did look up, then, “I don’t want to go too fast for you, angel.”

“Oh, I think we’re up to speed now, my dear,” he said warmly.

She gave him a small smile and kissed his cheek, “Maybe we could start in separate rooms, just to make sure we’re not going too fast for you.”

“Alright.”

“And then if you think you’d be comfortable with it, we could squish into one room,”

Crowley’s phone started to ring. She let it go to voicemail, but went to pick it up when she heard Warlock’s voice on the other end of it calling for Nanny, “I’ve got to get that.”

Aziraphale watched her go to the phone and talk to the boy, twirling the phone chord around her finger as they conversed and she said of course he could come stay with her, he was always welcome. He smiled as he watched and was suddenly incredibly impatient to move into that cottage with the wily old serpent.


End file.
